The Operatives
by Bright Silver Lady of Midnight
Summary: There are Sues and badfic authors everywhere. One of the last remaining safe places is the Headquarters of the Veritas. With more and more officers disappearing, it'll take an unlikely team to win back fanfiction.
1. Prologue

Metis Baldwin felt so out of place among the clustering fangirls. Her stringy brown hair was pulled away from her face in a bun. She carried a notepad with her, the pen names of authors written down on it in conspicuously neat handwriting. She hadn't written her initials plus a fictional character's inside of a heart, which further called attention to herself. She was dressed like them, though; various brand names that were priced ridiculously high helped her to blend in a bit

She was going to the convention under an alternate account, one reserved for things such as this. She couldn't remember the account's name, but knew it was something like . If anyone asked, she'd just laugh and say she couldn't remember, claiming to be new here. She'd turn around and ask _them_ to tell her. Each one was annoying in her own way; some were fangirls, some only spoke in chtspk. Each one, however, was carefully catalogued, color-coded, and alphabetized in the palm-sized notebook.

She yearned to be behind a computer again. The fangirls swarmed around her, making her nervous, but she held her ground, pretending to be awed by a poster of Nico. She was almost trembling, either from the cold of the room or the proximity of the fangirls. Maybe both, who knew?

"Ehmigawd, Nico is, like, _so hot!" _a young girl, no older than eleven, from next to her

She nervously looked around for anyone else the girl might be talking to, but scolded herself for it. _This is what you're here for, _Metis reminded herself.

"Yeah, like, he and Annabeth are, like, my favorite characters. What do you ship?" Metis asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster

"Percabeth, of course!" the younger girl squealed

"No way, me too!" Metis exclaimed, jumping a bit in joy she didn't feel.

"Well, _duh!" _the eleven-year-old laughed. "I can tell by your pen name! They're on the back of everyone's shirt! You're iluvpercabeth1234 and I'm percabethrox1234567890!"

_Hey, kid, thanks for reminding me, _Metis thought, but said, "Yeah! What's your name?"

"Ashlyn. Do you want to, like, fav each other later?"

"Sure! I love coming to these because I like meeting other authors!" _Not technically a lie._

"Cool! Let's see how many people we can, like, meet, and then we can, like, go on and fav everyone's stories!"

"Totally!" Metis said and took this as an opportunity to escape, throwing a "Bye!" over her shoulder

Many of the pages of this notebook were full. Metis set the carefully organized notebook down on a vacant table and took out the mini post-it notes from her pocket. There were four different colors; this one needed a red for badfic author. Purple for Mary Sues or Gary Stus; green for trolls. Blue was completely unused, but stood for good author or character.

She copied down Ashlyn's information, such as pen name, offenses, that sort of thing down, placing a red sticky note in the top left corner. Each of these would have to be copied into a separate notebook later, then she'd have to go home and transfer all of the information to her Mac and take that with her back to Headquarters. Then, she knew, it would be her job to distribute the information out to each of the Departments under Headquarters.

Metis flipped the page and continued to walk. She was too nervous to care about wasting the paper; besides, how would it stay organized like she wanted it? She had more notebooks with her. They all but filled her purse; some were used, others were fresh.

Flipping to a clean page, Metis caught the attention of a Mary Sue. She had beautiful golden ringlets that trailed down almost to her elbows and shone brightly, even in the indoor lighting. Her jade eyes were kind and soft, but easily held Metis's attention. Her sun-tanned skin was completely flawless; an even tan, no acne.

"Hello," she said in a melodious voice, "I'm Angelica Rose Kathleen Chase, daughter of Aphrodite, Athena, and a mortal named Joe."

_Now__**,**__ just how does that work? _Metis wondered, but kept listening.

Angie's face grew dark. "That mortal beat me until I ran away to Camp Half-Blood. It took me fifteen minutes to find it, and everyone there loves me. Despite my tragic past, I'm prettier than all of my Aphrodite siblings, smarter than all of my Athena siblings, a better fighter than my Ares cabin boyfriend, better forger than that guy, Beckendorf, in the Hephaestus cabin who likes me..."

Metis feigned interest for as long as she could, but eventually made up an excuse about a lot of punch and something about the bathroom. This information could be documented without giving her a migraine, couldn't it? Of course it could.

Metis was down to the last pages in her third notebook, but continued, determined to document Angelica What's Her Face McSue-Head. It took up the rest of the notebook, but it was worth it. Metis started another notebook, printing a neat _7_ on the inside cardboard cover. These notebooks were small, but the fact that she'd already gone through six was sort of depressing.

The convention's "Introduction Evening" continued for almost an eternity. Metis got much valuable information, of course, but was it worth it? She was dead beat, thanks to a Gary Stu who absorbed energy from the air, sore due to a wannabe Ares camper, and bored due to the lack of rational conversation. Her senses were overloaded from squealing fangirls and God knows what else.

She walked into the room that, thank God, she'd have to herself. It was fit for a Queen, of course; there would be spoiled brats here, along with their Marys and Garys, who wouldn't be able to sleep on a hard mattress. Everything was luxurious. Metis couldn't decide whether or not that was a good thing. Comfort was obvious, but could she be able to sleep? Would she want to? The convention had taken hours.

She'd showered quickly in the gigantic bathroom, using a minimal amount of water, and changed into her flannel pajamas with the matching socks. It just wasn't right to go to bed without socks on. What if a spider crawled in between your toes and laid eggs there and then they hatched and burrowed underneath your skin? The thought made Metis shiver.

She flopped down onto the bed (comfortable enough for a Sue), and worked for hours to transcribe each and every piece of information into the respective notebooks. The large notebooks were organized in the same way the small ones were; red for badfic authors, purple for Sues and Stus who'd have to be killed with specially-designed weapons, and green for the trolls, who'd just have to be harassed into leaving.

Metis was glad that wasn't her job. Harassing trolls just made them troll more; it took someone with the bitch skills greater than or equal to to the idiocy of the troll itself... no, that didn't belong there.

Metis took out her orange notebook. This one was used for formulas, of course. She made sure to underline the title. Titles had to be underlined, or they weren't really titles. Just weird looking things in the margins of papers. And then what would you do, hmmm? Your paper doesn't have a title, which means that you'll have to read through the whole article to figure out a good title, which takes time, which you could've saved yourself... on and on Metis rambled in her head.

How To Get Rid of a Troll

_Stupidity of the troll(mean reviews-good reviews)≤ [Author bitchiness(number of authors)]-good reviews_

_S(m-g) ≤ [B(a)]-g _

Metis was too tired to put it into practice just yet, but it seemed about right. She wasn't one to do things half way, but it was almost impossible to keep her eyes open on this soft mattress with its warm, smooth, cream-colored sheets, poufy comforters, and big, plump pillows.... Her eyelids, heavy as lead and gritty as sand, began to droop. She began to fall backwards, into the soft pillows....

Quick! The notebooks! She couldn't fall asleep with them out; what if someone came in while she was sleeping? What if they found her out? Worse yet, what if they took her notebooks? She was wide awake now, with her heart pumping adrenaline hard through her veins.

The thought was so unbearable that it brought a pain to her chest. She shot out of the comfortable bed, _in her pajamas, _quickly pressed the notebooks to her chest. She counted them by number and then looked at their colors. Just to be safe, she opened the interior of each of them. Everything checked out. She sighed in relief, placing the notebooks in the bottom of her suitcase, between the bottom and the lining, where she'd made a slice for this exact purpose.

She made sure her little stuffed teddy bear, aptly named Mr. Bear, was still with her. He was. He sat right on her pillow, where she'd left him. Maybe it was childish, but when she worked, she sat with Mr. Bear in her lap, to keep her company. It was also fear that someone would take him if she left him alone at the apartment that the Headquarters provided for everyone who built there, but either way, Mr. Bear was always with her. Except in crowded rooms. Mr. Bear didn't like crowded rooms and neither did Metis. Metis never dared take Mr. Bear out into a crowded room, in case someone tried to steal him or hurt him--but here Metis cut herself off from that train of thought. It was just too scary and sad.

She crawled under the poufysheets, being extremely careful to hold Mr. Bear close to her so he wouldn't get lost and she wouldn't be afraid. She yanked on the chain to turn the light off, so that the only thing that lit up the room was the red light of the clock. But the dull glow of red in the dark scared Metis, so she quickly closed her eyes, and held Mr. Bear closer. She wouldn't feel right until this convention was over and she could go back to _her _bed, where Mr. Bear could be safe.


	2. Chapter 1

The convention of Sues was finally over. Metis Baldwin had packed up carefully, making sure that nothing was left behind. Her hair, which was becoming progressively dryer and splitting farther and farther up the ends from the stress that she was under, was tied back in a bun as it always was. She refused to place her suitcase in the back of the Veritas SUV that was sent to get her; this information was far too important for the trunk of any car.

The meeting was held in New Jersey, so it was a long ride back to New York for Metis. Unfortunately, before she could get back to the Veritas Headquarters, she had to go to Olympus and present all the information she gained. _That_ was going to be stressful; every time she was in the presence of an Olympian, her already low self-confidence dropped a few pegs. She tended to look down, especially when Aphrodite was in the room.

She took out her beat-up iPod that had a Veritas sticker on the back (Kaleidoscope Flowers had given her an entire set for her birthday) and turned it on to shuffle. She was slightly comforted by the familiar sound of _Viva la Vida_ by Coldplay and drifted off to the most peaceful sleep she'd had in three days.

In Metis's dream, she was in the throne room of Olympus. The pillars were crumbling; a statue of Zeus was smashed, his head lying by her feet. A woman was kneeling in chains in front of the throne of Zeus. She was crying blood, which was staining the white stola, but not the blood-red palla, that she wore. Her black hair was stained with the blood, and her irises were gray, though the blood she was crying tinged the whites of her eyes and the edges of her irises red. Though she had the looks of Athena, this woman was a Roman.

One word left the woman's lips: "_Scripta_." Her voice was pretty, with an accent that Metis couldn't place.

At this, a hooded figure came out of nowhere in a burst of flame. Well-manicured nails, along with pink lips, showed Metis that the hooded figure was female. In her hands, she held a red feather pen, which she grabbed tightly, and then snapped in half. As the pieces drifted to the ground, the chained woman ducked her head down and sobbed, blood pouring profusely out of her eyes and splattering the ground around her and her stola, but the hooded figure remained clean.

The hooded figure's mouth opened, and said-

"Miss Baldwin, we're at the Empire State Building."

Metis blinked awake, "Wuh? Wazgoinon?"

"The Empire State Building, Miss Baldwin. We're there," the driver explained again. "You may leave your bag in here; I'll take it back to your office at Veritas for you."

"Thanks," Metis said, grabbing her purse.

"Any time, Miss Baldwin," the driver said.

In the lobby, nobody had time for a timid, plain girl carrying a purse stuffed with notebooks. There was no line at the concession desk, so Metis walked right up to the man. Trying to look brave and failing, Metis sighed in preparation of what she was about to ask.

"May I help you, Miss?" the man behind the counter asked from behind his newspaper.

"I need," and here Metis leaned closer so that only he could hear her, though nobody around them cared, "to get to Olympus."

The man looked out from behind his paper, looking stern, "Now, I don't know what funny business you're trying to pull here, but Olympus is _most certainly not-" _

"My name is Metis Baldwin," she continued in a hushed tone. "I work for the Veritas, and it is crucial that I get to Olympus to present this information to Zeus, or we're all in trouble."

At this, the man nearly threw the key card over the counter. Veritas was an important organization; while the name Metis Baldwin carried no weight, throwing her position around opened up many doors that others would find locked.

"Make sure nobody is in the elevator with you," he reminded her.

She nodded, thanked him, and walked away. She slipped the key card into her purse and walked into an elevator, which was, of course, crowded with important businessmen.

"Going to visit your Mommy?" an older man asked, ignorant to the fact that Metis was sixteen and assuming all children were the same.

"Yes," Metis lied. "She's waiting for me on the top floor."

The man winked at her, though it wasn't in a creepy way, "My son and I used to throw pennies over the top."

She smiled at him, but when the doors opened, he got off. She went back to standing in the corner and attracting as little attention as possible.

When all of the people had gone to their destinations, Metis slipped the key card in. The force of the elevator rushing up to Olympus made her fall back against the wall and then slide to the floor. No matter how many times she tried to get to Olympus, this always happened to her. If a field agent went with her, then they'd just stand there, give her a strange look, and wait until they stopped to offer to help her up.

When the doors opened, Metis climbed out. There were a few drachmas in her pocket, which she'd been saving _forever _to go shopping on Olympus. There was no time now; the gods were expecting her. On her way back, however, there were no such restrictions...

Even though she swore to herself that she was going to walk straight to Olympus, it was difficult to watch all of the amazing things in the shop windows without going in. Many street vendors offered her ambrosia squares and nectar, which were difficult to refuse. Metis wasn't a half-bloodby birth, but Scripta, goddess of writing, claimed many good writers as her own. Metis _could_ eat and drink the food of the gods, but had a lower tolerance for it than Half-Bloods. Still, people called many Veritae the children of Scripta.

When she entered the throne room, Metis couldn't help but be awed. She never could help it. It was so _beautiful, _and there was so much to take in at once; the white pillars, the thrones themselves, especially that of Zeus, and the gods themselves. When she remembered how she got around the gods and goddesses of Olympus, she kept her head down.

"Um... hi," Metis said, looking up slightly. "I'm, uh, Metis Baldwin, from Veritas-"

"We know who you are!" Ares boomed. "Get on with it already!"

"Well," Metis said, digging around in her purse and producing a single, hand-held notebook, "As you know, I attended the Badfic Convention- sorry, I mean the PJO Writers United Convention. As of right now, there are over five hundred thousand Sues and Stus, two hundred badfic authors, and fifty trolls."

"_Fifty?" _Aphrodite demanded. "Are you jerking my chain, daughter of Scripta?"

"N-n-no, Lady Aphrodite. Fifty recorded trolls, probably more."

Aphrodite sat back in her throne, scowling.

"We have very important information for Veritas," Zeus said. "Scripta, your patron goddess, has been kidnapped, along with three Veritae."

"_Scripta? _But she... she's..."

"A goddess. Yes. It's happened before, though." Nobody said a word, but everyone's eyes flicked towards Persephone and Artemis.

"Yes, Lord Zeus. I'll go back to Veritas right away and call for a meeting," Metis said quickly.

"Metis Baldwin, daughter of Scripta, and member of the Veritas, you are dismissed," Lord Zeus said.

Metis turned around and nearly sprinted to the elevator, not even concerned with the many wonderful things Olympus had to offer. Scripta, the patron goddess of Veritas, was _gone_. Of course it happened when Atlas escaped the weight of the sky and when Kore strayed from Demeter and became Persephone when Hades kidnapped her, but Scripta was a constant in the life of the Veritae.

They worked for the Percy Jackson fandom, damn it, and something in the Percy Jackson fandom was nothing without a patron god or goddess! And Scripta, goddess of writing, daughter of Athena, took the Veritae under her wing. Nobody had ever _seen_ Scripta, which was going to make finding her all the harder, but she was an unseen force, sort of. She stopped angry field agents from throwing mugs of boiling hot coffee and demanding that the entire Veritas organization get rid of decaf, the so-called drink of Satan (well, most of the time, but there were still a few people who did this regularly).

Veritas Headquarters wasn't far away from the Empire State Building, for emergency purposes. It was a far walk for Metis, but it would be a short drive, and therefore a waste of gas to call someone and have them pick her up. She walked over the grimy, gum-encrusted sidewalks, thinking of the goddess she'd never even _seen, _but had felt such a strong connection to.

---

Metis's arms were laden with ten-pound stack of papers. Maybe she was just weak, but it seemed to be getting heavier by the second. She stopped for just a second to adjust the weight in her arms. A tall girl wearing a stained blue jacket walked by Metis and without looking over at all, slammed her open palm into the bottom of the stack of papers. They went flying everywhere;the girl even stepped on some of them, but she gave no indication that she had just done anything.

She walked by with a straight face, and without looking back said "That's Theia, bitch," and continued moving as if Metis had never existed.

Metis, who'd so carefully typed up all of the information about the Gary Stus, trolls, Mary Sues, and badfic authors, was about to have a nervous breakdown. She didn't have to re-print _all_ of the papers. The Veritas meeting would have to wait. She gathered the papers as best she could, and all but ran back to her office.

After neatly organizing all of her papers, and figuring out which ones had footprints on them, she re-printed and re-organized. She placed them in her divider, which also had a Veritas sticker. Holding the divider close to her chest and looking out for Theia 47, Metis half-walked half-ran to the meeting.

When she arrived in the conference room, Theia was looking at her with a grin. Metis took the farthest seat from her that was available, which was between a pretty Indian girl and an Italian boy.

"Now that Metis is here, we can start," Zoe Nightshade said. "What did you have to tell us?"

Every eye in the room was on Metis. The stares of the field agents were either annoyed or impassive; her fellow desk-workers looked curious and excited for her. Kal gave her a smile and a thumbs up, gesturing for her to continue.

"Well, um, as you know, I was sent on a mission to go to the badfic convention," Metis started, looking down at the table and wringing her hands together. "I think we all know why. Many Veritae are either M.I.A. or AWOL, but something worse has happened." Metis looked up now, meeting Zoe's eyes, but refusing to look at anyone else. It was easier if she concentrated on one person. "Scripta, our patron and the goddess of writing, is missing."

There were gasps and murmurs around the table. People started to talk, which was replaced by shouting over everyone else. Scripta was _gone_. It'd dropped like a brick on everybody's head, just like it had on Metis's.

The loudness continued, until Dem got up, slammed her closed fist on the table, and screamed "Would all of you _shut the fuck up?_"

The noise subsided, while Dem's words rang in her ears.

_Shut the fuck up._

_The fuck up._

_Fuck up._

Dem gave Metis a look, and sat back down.

"We should send someone to go look for her," Zoe said, and all of the lasting murmurs subsided immediately.

"Who?" the pretty Indian girl on her left asked.

Zoe sat back, considering. She opened her mouth to answer, but Theia spoke first, "You, Durga. And Antonio, because he's your partner."

"Three to a quest," Avenger of the Olympian Flame reminded everyone.

That started up arguments among the field agents of who should go with Durga and Antonio. The field agents, being self-satisfied bitches in most desk workers' opinion, were shouting over each other because each one believed what he or she had to say was more important than what everyone else did.

Dem stood up threateningly, and everyone sat back down. She smiled a self-satisfied smile, and sat back down.

"Metis," Kal decided.

Metis looked up in surprise, "Yes?"

"You go on the quest," Kal prodded. "You're organized enough to go along. Durga will lead you."

"Yeah," Storm said. "_You _risked yourself and went to the Badfic Convention. _You_ were the one who went to Olympus. _You _brought us back news of Scripta. _You _should be the one to go and find her, then."

Metis shook her head, but nobody was paying attention. There were murmurs of yes from around her.

"Alright," Zoe said. "It's settled, then. Durga will lead Metis and Antonio to find the missing Veritae and Scripta."

Metis nearly fainted where she sat.

_---_

Thanks a billion to all the people who reviewed, and Kal, my totally awesome Beta.


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